


On the Horizon

by Cosmicstardust



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, WWII AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicstardust/pseuds/Cosmicstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's early 1941 when Kazama receives his notice of enlistment for the Imperial Army. His childhood best friend, Chizuru, decides to follow him into the military as a nurse. Despite being separated, they can always find their way back to each other. In the midst of a war, their feelings for each other blossom into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Horizon

Chizuru ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Her throat was burning, her chest heaving, her eyes watering. She couldn’t believe the news that she just heard. She _refused_ to believe it. The military had already claimed her father, but now they were taking her childhood best friend, as well?

Seeing his house on top of the hill, she pushed herself even more. To think that he was conscripted; it couldn’t be true! It had to be a nightmare, some terrible dream. But no; the pain she felt, the way her lungs felt, it couldn’t be replicated in a dream.

“Kazama!” she screamed, still running. On the verge of tears, she called for her best friend, over and over. “Kazama! Kazama! Where are you?!” she cried, turning into his courtyard.

Opening the door, he stepped out, and she practically mowed him over. The impact had startled him, but he quickly righted himself. Wrapping his arms around her while she tried to catch her breath, he knew what had brought her there. She had run all the way from town, which was easily three kilometers.

“Don’t do it, Kazama. Don’t go,” she pleaded, burying her head into his coat. Despite being friends since they were children, she still called him by his last name, since his first name sounded “awkward” and “unsuitable”. She had declared that when she was seven years old, and he was ten.

“Chizuru, they already sent the letter. I have to,” he explained calmly. He didn’t necessarily _want_ to go, but it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter. She shook her head vehemently, and he petted her hair. “Chizuru,” he sighed.

“You can’t. You can’t leave me alone like this.” That was it. She had started to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Either you don’t go, or I’m coming with you,” she argued, voice low.

“You are ill-suited as a soldier, Chizuru,” he scoffed, trying to lighten the load on her heart.

“I could be a nurse!” she piped up, looking up at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, but there was a light in them. She had that look in her eye that meant she was determined and would not back down.

“Chizuru, you can’t—”

“Yes I can! I’m the daughter of a doctor. I know enough. It would be better than staying here,” she interrupted him.

They had watched each other grow up. He always had watched her back whenever the kids at school teased her, although it had become harder when they had entered different schools. Her father had left in 1937 to be with the Imperial Army, and now, four years later, Kazama was leaving her, too.

He was actually older than most recruits, being 23 years old. He guessed they had gotten all the farmers and merchants from that area, and were now looking towards the bigger families for recruits.

Chizuru was 20 now, so it wasn’t like she would be unable to join, he just didn’t want her to. She was stubborn enough that, no matter what he said, she would still join now that the idea was in her mind.

“Fine,” he sighed. “You’re too stubborn to listen to reason, anyway.” She punched him playfully, and he smirked at her. Wiping away the last of her tears with his thumb, his hand lingered. He had enough sense to let go, but he hadn’t wanted to.

Not seeing her every day would prove to be taxing. She had a place in his heart, and he didn’t doubt that he held a place in hers. Debating on whether or not to tell her how he felt before he left for training, he let her into his home.

He pondered on the timing of his confession while he made tea for her, while he walked back towards where she was sitting, and while he watched her take her first sip. If he told her now, it would be awkward. If he waited until a holiday to do it, it would be awkward then. He wasn’t even sure if she felt the same way.

Chizuru wanted to do something—anything—to break the silence, but only thoughts of the war and the military were flooding her mind. It was January, 1941, and what a start to the year it was. Everything she knew was crashing down around her. The weight of the world was resting on her shoulders, grief swallowing her whole.

“I’ll be fine, Chizuru,” he insisted, tousling her hair. Covering her head defensively, she pouted slightly. How could he sound so casual about it? He wasn’t going off to Osaka for a vacation, he was going to _war_.

“You sound so sure of yourself,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. Sitting across from her, he could see the worry etching slowly into her expression. “How do you know you won’t be hurt?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She didn’t believe his confident answers, so he took a risk to convey it to her. Reaching across the table, he placed his hand lightly atop hers, and looked her sincerely in the eyes.

“Chizuru Yukimura,” he started, his eyes never leaving hers. “I _promise_ that nothing will happen to me. We will see each other again.” The strength in his voice when he addressed her by her full name left her speechless.

Glancing towards his hand, lying on top of hers, she felt heat rise into her neck. It wasn’t that they had never held hands before, it had just been well over ten years. They were kids then, it was innocent. But now, there was a certain weight to his hand that left her feeling reassured.

“Chi-Chikage,” she stuttered. His eyes widened; he couldn’t remember the last time she had called him by his first name. Cheeks and ears painted pink, she continued, “You better come back,” she threatened meekly.

A smirk twisted his lips up, his usual demeanor taking place.

“Chizuru, you’re so shy,” he teased, taking another risk and intertwining their fingers. The pink shade turned into a deep red. Snatching her hand back, she watched him laugh, and couldn’t help but laugh herself.

The evening continued as such, with both of them trying to forget the war on the other side of the horizon.

 

Within the next week, Chizuru was enlisted as a nurse, and within the same week, she was seeing Kazama off. Her training didn’t start for another two weeks, and even so, they both doubted they would see each other again until the holiday.

“Will you write to me?” she asked, fixing his hair for the umpteenth time. She was acting like a fretting mother, but he let her.

“As much as I can,” he promised.

The ship’s whistle blew, calling all the dawdlers to the deck. Kazama and Chizuru exchanged one look before he took her into his arms, squeezing her tight. She had been surprised at first, but put her arms around him.

True, it was only going to be training until she saw him next, but she still worried immensely. She was so worried that her heart was beating extra loud in her chest, and he must have been worried, too. She could hear the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart despite everything that was happening around her.

When he pulled away, he looked at her carefully, as if he had something else to tell her. She opened her mouth to ask when another whistle from the ship shrieked out, impatiently telling its passengers to get on.

“I will see you in May, Chizuru.” Kazama moved away from her, and it was as if she was in a nightmare. Everything moved too slowly, and even though she reached for him, he had moved just out of her grasp. They took the bridge away when he had finally boarded, leaving Chizuru behind.

Of the hundreds of families there, in a sea of waving arms, Kazama could still spot her, struggling to make her way to the front, and giving him the most heartbreaking look he had ever seen from her. She waved; she kept waving until the ship was far out of her sight. She feared that if she stopped waving, he would never return.

 

No one saw Chizuru off when she left for the nurses’ training. It was quiet and empty and she felt alone in the world.

 

The letters from Kazama came to her, telling her horror stories of his training. Marching eight miles a day, teaching “country bumpkins” how to shoot, how to take orders, how to act like a proper soldier. She wondered if Kazama had inherited his soldier attitude from his father, who had participated in the invasion of China.

She wrote back that they practiced on real people after a while; the soldiers who came back with broken bodies, but invincible spirits. She had met a nice soldier by the name of Shinpachi who always lifted her spirits, even after a long, hard day.

Kazama would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous.

His next letter had started out with: “Has he touched you? Does he give you any sort of funny looks? Do his eyes linger too long? Do I have to come up there and beat the living shit out of him?”

He threw that piece of paper away and started a new draft.

There was something about the way it was written when Chizuru received it that made her think that Kazama wasn’t all that happy with hearing about Shinpachi, so she never brought him up again. The fact that the paper was torn through at several points was indication enough for her.

 

One day in March, Chizuru received notification that she was being transferred. Before the end of that week, she had left the nurses’ camp, traveling to Kyushu. As she recalled, that was where Kazama had been stationed, as well. She hadn’t been able to hide her happiness, to finally be reunited with the one she loved—

The thought had slipped in there before she had been able to process it.

_Me? Love Kazama?_ she thought, laughing to herself to cover it up. Her mind had flashed back to the time they spent in his home before he left. Mainly, she thought about the time he held her hand.

She found herself unable to stop thinking about it, heat rising up into her cheeks every now and again. She tried to rationalize the situation; they wouldn’t be _that_ close to each other, would they? She would probably see him on occasion and they would just bow to each other, that’s all.

There she was, sitting on a train, en route to Kyushu, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t fallen in love with her childhood friend. She tried to convince herself that the way he had brought her into his arms, the way he held her, the way he called her name, that all those things were just f _riendly_ things to do.

The way he had looked at her before he boarded that ship.

Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered that look. _Fine_ , maybe she _was_ in love with him! But that didn’t change the fact that he probably wasn’t in love with her. Despite the hugs, despite holding hands, despite that _look_ , he could not have been in love with her.

The train ride lasted for an eternity, and the boat ride to the island was an even longer eternity. With each mile, she found herself more and more anxious, wondering what Kazama’s reaction would be when he saw her. She hadn’t written him since she received her transfer notice, so he had no idea.

Once she reached the island, it was the opposite of the ride there. Everything was in a blur from going so quickly. Meeting the Captain, the Head Nurse, the others that she would be working with… she could hardly remember their faces. From the get-go, they had her running around with blankets and medical supplies, trying to accommodate everyone there.

On the field, the soldiers were practicing with rifles. The targets were set up, the rifles handed to each man from their comrade, until it finally came to be Kazama’s turn. He was rather far down the list, and everyone before him had handled the gun like they would handle a boar.

While loading it, he found that the ammo stuck a little, but tried to pay no mind. Aiming it carefully at the target, imagining an English soldier before him, he pulled the trigger slowly.

With all the mishandling, the gun had fired strangely, kicking back much more than usual. The gun would have exploded in his hands if he hadn’t had dropped it as soon as he felt something off when he fired.

Kazama’s arm was badly burned, but he tried to tough through it. The training captain wouldn’t have it, however, and sent him to the infirmary.

Sitting him down on a bed, the burn had caused several blisters to form on his skin. It was pretty ugly to look at, and he pitied the nurses, despite them working with worse relatively often.

Chizuru had heard that one of the soldiers had been badly burned, and ran over to help. She pulled back the curtain, but had hardly expected to see Kazama lying there. Likewise, he had hardly expected to see _her_ , either.

“Chizuru…?” he gaped, eyes wide as saucers. “What are you—?”

“Do you two know each other?” the nurse, Sen, eyed them.

“H-He’s my childhood friend,” Chizuru mumbled, losing her confidence once she saw Sen’s hardened gaze. “C-Could I take care of him, Miss Sen? I know how to handle burns,” she asked. Sen, after several moments, smiled and nodded.

“That would be fine. I have to attend to the others. I’m glad you were reunited with each other,” she smiled brightly, leaving Chizuru speechless. She managed a “thank you” and was left with Kazama.

“Kazama,” she sighed, finding herself on the verge of tears. “What happened?”

“Faulty guns,” he glowered. Seeing the tears in her eyes, he lifted his uninjured hand to her cheek, giving her his usual smile. His voice quiet, he knew he had to tease her. “If you cry every time something happens, then you won’t make a very good nurse.”

“Idiot, it’s because it’s _you_!” she reciprocated quietly. Placing her hand on top of his, she looked into his eyes. Sharing warmth with the woman he loved, he felt serene. “You promised me you would be fine.”

“Never mind my state,” he scoffed, moving his hand to tousle her hair. She laughed quietly, glad to be with him again. “What are you doing here? When did you arrive?”

“I just arrived today. I’m sorry for not telling you. But enough about that! We need to get your arm taken care of!” she ordered, fighting off panic. When she stood abruptly, he replaced his hand by his side.

She flitted about, gathering all the necessary materials. When she returned, she immediately started to unbutton his shirt, just out of instinct for taking care of arm injuries. Realizing who it was, her face went a bright red, and her fingers stopped in place, hovering over his buttons.

He noticed her blush, and thought it was possibly the cutest thing he had ever seen. Glancing lackadaisically towards his arm, he muttered an unenthusiastic, “Ouch.”

“Oh! Sorry!” she almost-yelled. The near silent room heard her cry, and wondered what exactly she was doing. This, naturally, made her blush even more, which Kazama reveled in.

Cutting the sleeve carefully, she moved around him to get the rest of his shirt off. In some moments, she was only centimeters away from him, close enough for him to kiss her, if he so pleased. His arm was her top priority at the moment, however.

Rubbing ointment on it gently, then bandaging it, Chizuru was finished within several minutes. While the ointment settled in, the heat of the burn diminished, and the cold slowly replaced it.

She sat up straight, smiling at him. For a moment, her eyes crept downward, remembering that he was her childhood best friend, and also very, very shirtless. The blush, gone for a moment while she was working, immediately returned, and she turned away in a panic.

“S-Sorry, I forgot you were naked,” she stammered.

“I’m hardly naked,” he scoffed, sitting up. He moved closer to her, whispering her name into her ear. “Chizuru.” His hot breath on her ear sent chills down her spine, perhaps because she was over-aware of how she felt about him. “Next weekend, we have a holiday. Would you accompany me that day?”

“E-Eh?!” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth before she yelled again. “W-W-Why?!”

“We haven’t seen each other in a while. I want to see you again.” A mischievous smile crept up into his features, making her wary of him. She wanted to spend time with him, too, and possibly tell him how she felt. Nodding slowly, she stood, and headed to her next patient, still red in the face.

 

The routine of their days made time go on faster. While Kazama was out of shooting rifles for a bit, he still had to march. Finding himself more often than not in the mess hall, he was forced to clean dishes with one hand.

Chizuru, on the other hand, stuck to her daily schedules. She would sometimes see Kazama during dinner, but hardly had time to talk. She and the other nurses had grown close, especially her and Sen. Kazama could sometimes see them laughing over their dinners; however, his eyes always lingered on the smiling Chizuru.

“So, Sen, do you have any plans for the holiday?” Chizuru asked the next Saturday. “You’re all dressed up, so you must be doing something, right?”

“I’m just going into town,” she shrugged. “Chizuru, you should come with me! We could eat dango and have some tea.”

“Ah… sorry, I already have plans…” she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. “Next time, I promise, okay?” Clapping her hands together in front of her, she begged for forgiveness. When Sen began laughing, so, too, did Chizuru.

“Wait, you have plans, but you’re wearing that?” Sen asked, hiding her distaste in plain sight. Chizuru laughed sheepishly, and before she knew it, Sen was digging through her belongings.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m finding you something cuter to wear. We’re the same size, you know,” she giggled, digging furiously. Pulling out a cream-colored dress, she held it up to Chizuru. “What do you think of this?”

The collar was rather cute, and it wasn’t too outlandish. Trying it on, it went down to her calves, and gave her some shape. The skirt of the dress was pleated, and it was extremely cute.

“You’ll really let me borrow this?” she asked, unable to hide her excitement.

“Of course!” Sen smiled. “Have fun, wherever you go, okay?”

When Chizuru met up with Kazama, he was left in stunned silence for a moment. Back home, she had usually worn traditional clothing, and when she didn’t, she wore plain, boyish clothing that hid her figure. That day, she was absolutely radiant.

“Shall we go?” she asked, beaming.

They visited the nearby town, walking around together, enjoying the sea breeze. Life still seemed somewhat calm outside the training camp, despite the looming presence of war. The day was still somewhat cool, but it also was nice. “Hey, young couple! Would you like some gyoza? It’s real cheap!” a store clerk called out to them.

“Would you like some?” Kazama asked her, at which she nodded. She was getting rather hungry, and the smell of the dumplings made her mouth water. Kazama’s arm was still in bandages, so she carried the food to a nearby bench, waiting for him.

As Kazama was right handed, holding chopsticks was relatively difficult for him. The bandages made the movements in his hand stiff and awkward, and he had a hard time eating.

“Do you need help?” Chizuru asked cautiously, knowing how proud he could be. Taking the small plate from his hands, she picked up a dumpling with the chopsticks, holding it out in front of him.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, refusing to eat from her hand like a child. She didn’t give up, however, and kept the food right in front of his face.

“Kazama, just eat,” she laughed, trying to ease the tension. “It’s good.”

Giving her a sidelong glance that could freeze someone else’s heart, he gave up. He knew she would persist, and let the food get cold. She acted the same way when his father had left years before.

Supporting her hand by holding it with his own, he ate the gyoza that she was offering. Letting go of her hand slowly, he chewed, giving her an annoyed look. She sat there, wide-eyed, feeling the last traces of the warmth on her hand fade away. Shaking herself out of the stupor she was in, she giggled.

“See? Was that so hard?” she asked, smiling knowingly. They had been friends for so long, she knew he would give in eventually. He was stubborn, but would give in if she persisted. That was the way they were.

Being hungrier than he was, Chizuru ended up eating most of the gyoza they were served. She felt bad afterwards, but he comforted her by saying that he wasn’t that hungry anyway.

He just wanted to be with her.

 

“Sen told me that there’s a perfect view of the sunset from the beach,” Chizuru smiled, leading the way. The sun was slowly reaching the horizon, reminding her that she was running out of time. Her worries and fears were catching up with her: would she make it in time? what would he say? would she ruin their friendship forever?

Kazama took notice of the worried expression she had on, and once they stepped onto the sands of the beach, he grabbed her hand, stopping her. She turned around quickly, the sun illuminating her hair from the back, highlighting it with red streaks.

“Chizuru, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and serious.

“What? Nothing’s wrong,” she laughed nervously, but his hand remained over hers.

“Chizuru.” His eyes narrowed, calling her on her lie. “Something is wrong, and it’s obviously bothering you. What is it?” he asked, trying to soften his voice, but it still came out harsher than he would have liked.

_It’s now or never, isn’t it?_

“U-Uh… well, actually…” she stammered, hesitating. Her heart was beating faster than it did when she ran all the way to his house. Faster than when she found out he was going off to war. Faster than when her father left. An uncomfortable heat made its way to her face and ears, and, squeezing his hand back for just a moment, she found her mouth moving without her knowing it.

The words he heard her say were ones that had inhabited his dreams for years. And with the waves crashing on the shore, and the birds overhead, and the setting sun reflecting on the water, he found himself smiling at her. She had lowered her head after saying those words, waiting for him to take his hand away, waiting for him to say _I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same way_ , waiting for him to walk off and leave her by herself. But none of those things happened.

Instead, it was something that had caught her by complete and utter surprise.

“I love you, too,” he said, moving his hand to her cheek and smiling that same crooked smile she had seen for years beforehand. Before she realized it, he was moving closer to her, and she couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening.

Kazama, the man she had loved for _who knows how long_ , was kissing her. He supported the back of her head with his left hand, yearning to use his right, but knowing that she would scold him. Her lips were soft, and full of the warmth that he had yearned for, while his were chapped, and dry, but had a certain gentleness to them.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, wanting to feel his embrace, his heat, his utter essence. Her eyes had fluttered closed somewhere along the way, enhancing the sound of the waves that crashed on the shore.

He broke the kiss first, brushing strands of her hair aside, the last bits of the sun setting below the horizon. Pulling her closer, he rested his head on top of her own, reveling in how close they had become.

Somewhere, deep within his conscious, there was something to worry about. He had heard the training captain saying that they needed pilots, specifically kamikaze pilots. His arm would fully heal soon, and they would most likely make him one of those pilots.

Maybe he brought Chizuru closer because he knew, in the back of his mind, that one day they would be separated.

 

Months passed, with Chizuru and Kazama barely getting any time alone together. They would sneak looks, exchange a smile or two, but ultimately, Kazama was back into the thick of his training.

His hunch had been right, and they assigned him to learning how to pilot the new airplanes. When he asked why they would be flying airplanes when there were already so many pilots, he was only told that it was for an upcoming, secret mission.

Throughout the months, he slowly found out more and more. Each time he asked, he was either denied information, or given something of little value. He refused to give up, however, and kept asking all through September.

Finally, in the last week of September, all the pilots were gathered, specifically to be told that they would be attacking their adversary. They were allied with the Germans, so most of them figured they were speaking of bombing the English—despite the Germans bombing them rather efficiently the year before.

But no.

They found out, that that year, within a week and a half, they would be bombing someone even bigger than England. Sometime soon, they would be flying to the American island known as Hawaii, and bombing the naval outpost there.

All the men were ecstatic, with one exception. Kazama didn’t have the same optimism that his fellow soldiers did, and knew that they wouldn’t get out of it unscathed. It wasn’t his place, yet he voiced his opinion.   
“Do you honestly think that the Americans would remain neutral after we bomb their own country? We would be committing mass suicide,” he protested. His superiors didn’t take well to him voicing his cynical opinions, naturally.

“Soldier, what is your name?”

“Chikage Kazama,” he snarled, unable to hide his disdain.

“Then, Kazama, you will be one of the main pilots to fly in this operation. Congratulations,” his superior smiled cruelly.

He sat down, grinding his teeth, thinking of what this idiotic operation would do to Japan.

The first thing he did after the meeting was out was find Chizuru. She was working in the infirmary, despite it being eleven in the evening. Without saying a word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him, despite her protests.

When they stopped, his back was facing her.

“Kazama, what are you doing? You can’t just drag me out of work!” she shouted, flustered. He didn’t say anything, knowing that it would break her heart to see him go. Noticing the change in atmosphere, she approached him. “Chikage…” she whispered, dread filling her. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re bombing the Americans,” he said flatly, his back still to her. “They assigned me to go.”

The whole world seemed to shatter instantaneously. Chizuru’s stomach dropped, the blood left her face, and all she could find herself doing was staring at the back of Kazama’s head. She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t do anything. She began trembling, then quaking, and eventually fell to her knees because she couldn’t even hold her body up.

“America…?” she mouthed. “Y-You can’t…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her vision began to close in, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

He turned to see her on the ground, and kneeled next to her, putting his arms around her. She was shaking so much, he didn’t know what to do. She didn’t act this way even when her father left, and it scared him to see her that way.

“You can’t go,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t!” she screamed, raw sobs escaping her. “Chikage, don’t leave me!” she sobbed, taking shallow breaths, her voice slurring from the tears.

“Chizuru, I’ll be fine,” was all he could say. He held her, the sound of her sobs breaking his heart, while he tried fruitlessly to comfort her. She held onto him tightly, afraid that if she let go, he would die.

They remained like that until Chizuru could breathe normally, which took over an hour and a half. She was too numb to cry anymore. She felt as if she was going to die in his place. He was the only one she had left, and he was going off to die.

“I promise you, I will drop the bombs and then I will fly straight back.” Placing his hand on her cheek, he looked at her earnestly. She kissed him, scared and passionate, thinking that that would be the last time she ever could.

She feared that she was right.

 

The pilots left on November 20th, heading for northern Japan to congregate with the others. Just as Chizuru had to see Kazama off almost a year before, she had to do it again.

Tears streamed down her face as they walked hand-in-hand to the port, and when it was time for him to leave, he kissed her, and she felt like he took all warmth out of her body when he stopped.

“Please, don’t die,” she choked, hugging him tightly.

“I won’t, and when I come back, marry me,” he said, his voice revealing no prior intentions of proposing to her. Eyes wide, she stared at him, and after a few moments, she nodded.

“I will. I promise,” she tried to smile through the tears.

“I love you, Chizuru.” Kissing him one last time before he had to go, Chizuru could hardly stop the tears.

“I love you, too, Chikage,” she sighed shakily. Watching his back, she relived the fear she had the first time she saw him off. She knew this time, however, there was a much bigger chance of him not coming back alive.

She realized she had just agreed to be his wife, and that she would wait as long as it took for her fiancé to return. It was up to fate, and all she could do was wait.

 

Chizuru found that she couldn’t stay in the training camp, and requested transfer, or dismissal. She had to go up north, to where Kazama had been sent. The Head Nurse, noting how distressed she was, simply dismissed her, and told her to go on her way.

She left the next day, traveling up north by ships and then slow trains. It took her about a week to get there, apparently much slower than it had for the soldiers.

Kazama arrived on the 24th, and had departed for the attack on the 26th. Chizuru had arrived just several days later, only to find out that Kazama had left days before. She remained there, simply waiting for any news about the attack.

On the morning of the 8th of December (the 7th for the Americans), there was a radio report on what had happened. The attack was overall successful, but there were some casualties.

“Our honorable men fought valiantly, and while we have lost 64 men…” the reporter continued, but Chizuru couldn’t hear anything. Only sixty-four had died, but that didn’t exclude Kazama right away.

“The names, what are the names of those who died?!” she demanded from the radio, who answered her with endless droning about what else happened. There were no names given. Perhaps it was unknown still, but it left Chizuru in a state of panic.

Kazama had told his superiors that immediately after the attack, he would resign. He had no interest in continuing fighting, and, as someone of somewhat bluer blood, he didn’t want to be treated as a foot soldier for years after.

They took off that morning, flying towards Pearl Harbor. It was early in the morning for the Americans, and they were completely unsuspecting. Kazama’s plane was one of the first to fly over, dropping bombs onto their destroyers.

He looped around to drop another round when one of the Americans fired at him from their ships. It hit the plane, the left wing smoking furiously. He had to make it back to Chizuru; she was waiting for him, waiting to marry him.

“Damn it!” he shouted, unsure of if he would make it back or not.

 

The ships carrying the planes and men made it back to Japan within several weeks. Both America and England had declared war on Japan, and the Imperial Army was ready to fight for absolute control.

Chizuru met the boat at the port, pushing her way past other, equally-frantic people, she finally made her way to the front. The ship’s horn roared loudly over the crowds, most of them wondering if their sons or husbands made it back.

Men poured off of the ship, walking onto the dock, embracing their family members, but Chizuru was left alone in the midst of hundreds of people. He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

_He isn’t there_.

Chizuru felt faint. Everything began spinning, her vision began to darken, her knees went weak, and she fell. She wondered if she would fall into the water, but, no, she landed hard on the asphalt.

People crowded around her, wondering if they should call a medic or a doctor. She was barely conscious, barely holding on, with only the slight hope that he would walk off the ship, rush to her side, and help her.

But of the people who helped her, none of them were familiar.

“Liar…” she breathed, tears falling from her eyes. S _ixty-four men… one of which is Kazama_.

One lingering soldier, whose leg had been badly injured and made it difficult for him to walk, emerged at the top of the ship, walking down. He saw a familiar ponytail, a girl was being carried off by a doctor, and he tried his best to use his crutch to help him go faster.

Making it to the bottom, people surrounded him, asking if he knew where their family was, who died, and who was captured. He just tried to go after the girl, knowing he could run, but wishing with all his might that he could.

“Chizuru…” a soft, barely audible voice called to her. She wondered if it was a spirit of someone long dead. Perhaps of someone newly dead. “Chizuru…” again, it called. It was closer, louder, and somewhat familiar.

“Chi…kage…?” she whispered, moving uncomfortably in the doctor’s arms. “Chikage?” she called quietly, but desperately.

“Chizuru!” he shouted, loud and clear, and resonating in her ears. Still woozy from her fainting episode, she tried to squirm out of the doctor’s arms. He put her down, helping her stand up straight. “Chizuru!”

Turning, she could hardly believe it was true. There he was, using a crutch, a splint attached to his leg, hobbling towards her. As if reenergized, she found within herself the strength to run.

_Please, don’t be a ghost._

“Chikage!” she shouted, tears springing to her eyes. She sprinted for him, running past the multiple colors of clothing and faces of people she could never recognize. She made it to him, almost tackling him, just as she had the day she heard he was enlisted. “Chikage, Chikage, you’re alive. I’m so glad,” she wept, planting kisses all over his slightly battered face.

“Chizuru,” he breathed, taking in her scent, her warmth, everything about her. He was about to speak again when she kissed him, interrupting him. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he figured that what he had to say could wait.

She broke the kiss, crying tears of absolute joy, all her fears washing out in the tears she shed.

“Chizuru,” he repeated, taking her hands into his own. “You remember our promise?” he asked. She stared at him, so blissful that she couldn’t respond. “You promised me that when I came back, you would marry me.”

“Of course I remember,” she laughed, throwing her arms around him. “Of course I’ll marry you, Chikage.”

_Of course I will. I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for Alexia (my partner in crime/ in cahoots with my shenanigans). Happy Birthday! I hope that this doesn't make you cry too much and that you can have a good birthday. This ended up being super long, whoops.  
> Any questions, comments, or prompts? Send me an ask at longhairedantagonists.tumblr.com.  
> I tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but since I'm American and we couldn't possibly look at the enemy side for whatever reasons, finding anything on Japanese nurses was difficult. I tried!  
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.


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